Fields of Gold
by falling into you
Summary: When they said goodbye to each other in those last, fateful days, they simply assumed their story had ended. Yet years later, their paths cross once more. Now is the time to decide: love undeniable, love true, love forever. DracoGinny
1. In My Own Words

Title: Fields of Gold

Author: falling into you

Rating: Mature (R)

Genre: Romance

Pairing: Draco/Ginny

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. It is all JK Rowling's and various publishers'.

Summary: They had a past. A past that ended when reality intervened. A reality that they returned to, lived out, each trying to forget the other. Years later, when they unknowingly cross paths once more, the sparks still fly. But can their love, however true it may be, survive in "reality"? Will they be strong enough to fight for it when they once let it go? Is their love simply meant to be just that – a love for one day, one night, and nothing more?

Short Summary: When they said goodbye to each other in those last, fateful days, they simply assumed their story had ended. Yet years later, their paths cross once more. Now is the time to decide: love undeniable, love true, love forever.

Author's Notes: I realize this was supposed to be a "wartime" story. Well, as the seventh book has come out and dashed out a lot of plot bunnies (and that horrid epilogue!), this is going to be kind of like a war story continued. Also, I'm merging it with my plot bunny for _Leaving Paris_. If that doesn't make sense, don't worry. Yes, the title of the story comes from Sting's _Fields of Gold_. If you haven't heard that song, you should. It's one of my favorites, and it's absolutely beautiful – the imagery and the music.

Canon Notes: I disregarded the DH epilogue when writing this because of obvious reasons. Otherwise, I'm going to try to follow canon as closely as possible. JK Rowling is brilliant, of course, and I respect her writing. But we all know that if I wrote strictly canon, Draco and Ginny wouldn't be together in the end. Although I could see the angst play out pretty well. Ah, another story, another time, Dear Readers.

* * *

**Prologue: In My Own Words**

The candle threw its light over the young boy's face as he swept expertly through the darkness, clutching the candleholder. He briefly reflected on how he could never sleep lately, and so how he'd taken to wandering through the dark hallways, as if he were searching for something.

No one knew about his midnight excursions, despite the precautions that been added for the last twelve years, ever since he was three, to contain his habit of wandering. There was no doubt this place was beautiful; architects and landscapers loved the place. Those who believed themselves to be art connoisseurs of the finest degree could be seen at the annual house tours pointing at various objects and proclaiming loudly for all to hear how it was a perfect example of the so-and-so art period, whereupon they would then sigh heavily and anguish over how "it just isn't made like this these days", shedding a few obligatory tears until they fell upon their next prey of choice to praise and sigh and tear over, and so on. What critics and lovers alike probably never knew was that despite its seamless combination of antiquity and style, it was dangerous to wander around in such a place. The corners of the boy's mouth lifted at this thought.

He paused in front of a tapestry depicting the story of Hades and Persephone, one of his favorite myths. Unlike much of the artwork in the Wizarding world, it didn't move. Rather, it was like Muggle pictures, capturing each scene in all its glory. Though it wasn't the first time he'd seen it, the boy's eyes sparkled as he looked up at it. It was huge, stretching across the hallway so long that he relived the story as he walked by, lifting his candle up at times to see the pictures clearer.

He saw the young woman, only a girl really, picking flowers in a field. Her pale, slender fingers twined about the stems of daisies and poppies. Her innocence shone through in the open expression on her face and the white sundress she wore, so white it was almost blindingly painful. No matter now many times he passed by this particular tapestry, he could never fail to wonder at her almost complete oblivion to the sudden departure to the Underworld she would soon take.

The next section of the tapestry depicted a Hades so intimidating the boy could feel the darkness radiating off the woven silk. When the boy was younger, he had thought it was evil centered in those dark eyes. Now that he was older, feeling some of the same indescribable emotions, he could see that the expression in those intense eyes was a deep desire mixed with traces of bafflement, as if Hades could not fathom the reason behind his lust for not only the woman herself, but also her innocence and purity.

It was always a surprise to see how quickly the next frame changed. One side of the boy's mouth quirked upward. He loved the motion in this part of the story, the flurry of color and light when Hades swooped down in his chariot and grabbed Persephone, making her drop the crown of honeysuckle she had made. Yet Hades had made sure to carefully step over the flowers she had plucked so as not to crush them.

The motherly fury in the following parts made the boy shudder, for it reminded him of scenes too close to home. He knew Demeter's rage was justified. Most mothers would be upon finding that her only daughter had been kidnapped. While she stormed about, calling for a meeting with all the gods and goddesses, the anger and fright was clearly visible on her pale face.

Hades' world was such a contrast to the previous sections, but this juxtaposition only emphasized what the boy saw as Hades' loneliness. The story of the god of the underworld kidnapping the beautiful daughter of the goddess of the harvest was oddly touching to him. While Demeter's fury made the air around her turn bright, angry colors, Hades' world was bathed in shades of blues and greens and silvers. The one beautiful object in his underworld was Persephone. She glowed a creamy gold, her eyes closed as she rested upon a large ornate bed. Her distress was betrayed only by how tightly she clutched the burgundy sheets in her small hands. Hades' own distress was evident by his pained expression as he pleadingly showed her the tables heavily laden with mouthwatering food and drink. There was pride in his face too, but it was pushed aside, sacrificed for this woman, _his_ woman.

Now toward the end of the tapestry, to the part of the story where Persephone ate the few pomegranate seeds that seal her fate, the boy slowed. He ran his hand over the pomegranate Hades clutched in his fingers, holding it out to the lovely but pale Persephone. The brilliant crimson seeds glimmered in the candlelight. Suddenly the pomegranate widened to form an opening large enough for him to walk through. His eyes widened, more from excitement and anticipation than shock. He was used to such secret passageways, for things weren't always as they seemed.

He went through and found himself in a small room that was comfortably furnished. He saw a fireplace and fumbled for his wand in the front pocket of his robes, uttering a spell that lit the empty hearth with a crackling fire. Turning back toward the doorway, he was satisfied to see that it had sealed itself shut. The room itself was unused, for the air seemed just the slightest bit stale and a light flutter of dust rose when he sat in an armchair, sinking into its softness. As he placed his candle on the table beside him, he noticed that there were a few books lying there.

He picked up the first of the books, a slim leather bound novel with a swirling script reading _Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare _once he'd blown a layer of dust off the cover. He vaguely remembered something about this play, of two star-crossed lovers, of the hidden romance, and of their tragic ending. Underneath was a morbid looking book, a night black novel with a deep red rose on the cover titled _The Phantom of the Opera._ He could only fleetingly remember it was about a disfigured man longing after a beautiful opera singer.

There were a few more books, but he pushed them aside and found a plain red book embossed simply with a gold colored 'Journal'. His brow furrowed in thought. He opened the book and a photo fell out. It was a red haired woman in a wedding dress being carried by a tall blond haired man. However, neither was looking at the photographer, for both only had eyes for each other, their expressions clearly showing their love and passion for one another. They laughed silently, the moment captured perfectly in the moving photo. The boy grinned at the picture, turning it over to find a date written in a smooth feminine flowing hand.

He found a letter along with the picture. Although it was an expensive, pristine white parchment only the very wealthy could afford, the paper was crinkled and worn, as if someone had spent hours reading and rereading the words, touching the words with shaking hands. The writing was strikingly masculine, yet elegant and beautiful at the same time.

_Dearest Ginevra,_

_That hideous excuse for a witch _(this was crossed out) _The lovely and accomplished Hermione Weasley has just informed me that I can't enter your dressing room. Some old fashioned belief that to see a bride in her wedding dress is to court bad luck. And now she is insisting on me carrying you over the threshold tonight so you won't trip over it. I have just informed her, in my haughtiest air, whether she would like us to jump over the fires at Beltane to ensure fertility as well. Isn't it just wonderful how red she gets? Now she is muttering something about needing all the luck you can get and has thankfully ceased reading over my shoulder so I can write in peace, deciding to straighten up some flower arrangements instead._

_I suppose, love, a few superstitions scattered about wouldn't hurt. It's true we'll need all the luck we can get. I used to believe luck is something you made, something that you had to work for. Luck didn't come to those who wiled away the hours, complaining and lounging around. After everything I've done, the places I've seen, I can't help but to insist that my fate is in my hands, and my hands only. Perhaps I still believe that, but I have learned something else. Sometimes fate throws you something, something special that you have to take without asking questions. Because it's during those times that define who we are and who we become. _

_We're getting married in five hours (I don't understand why it would take you five hours to dress, I'm still here in my robe, after all) and all I can say is "Merlin help us." It's been years since those days among the fields of barley, but I can still remember you there. I was so young and stupid, as young wizards tend to be, but you loved me anyway. And for that and more, I loved you. I still love you._

_I can't say that the years we were apart were wonderful, but in their own way, they were essential. If we had stayed together right after the War ended, I don't think we could have lasted, to be honest. I was still lost, still that boy afraid despite the false bravado, the boy who called you carrot-top and bloodtraitor (though I must admit it was, and still is, great fun to poke at The-Boy-Who-Lived and his Loyal Sidekick). I've learned things, traveled places, seen different cultures. And so I've grown._

_Now that I'm sounding sentimental, a regular Hufflepuff, almost (the horror!), and that infernal bushy haire _(again, crossed out, but still legible through that straight line)_ that brunette goddess, is coming _(another cross out)_ back and telling me to finish up this letter so she can return to you, I'll just add this. I love you. Sometimes I'm amazed. I wake up in the morning next to you and see you just there and I wonder. Every moment with you (yes, even during your tempestuous moments, do you know how tempting you look when you're angry?) is something to be treasured. And I will, I promise. I might be a Slytherin, cunning and sneaky, but remember this. I promise to do right by you and give you children and grow old with you and love you._

_The Weasel Wife is now openly reading the letter and hasn't even forced me to cross out _(the boy laughed openly now as he read the crossed out unfinished sentence) _I spoke too soon. HERMIONE is now openly reading the letter and has gone googly eyed over the word 'love'. And so, because she is still peeking glances even after shooting her my infamous death glare, I'm sorry to say you're going to miss out on the more _interesting_ comments, shall we say? But never fear, I was always more a man of action than words, you know that. I'll show you…tonight. _

_Love,_

_Draco_

His cheekbones flushed a rosy red, the boy tilted his head sideways and carefully placed the picture and the letter on the table. Still a little embarrassed, but not embarrassed enough to wash away a young boy's curiosity, he settled back with the journal in his hand, wiggling to get comfortable. Opening the journal to the first page, he noticed that the journal was written in that same flowing feminine hand as the date on the back of the photo. He started reading, knowing that he would be here for a long time.

* * *

_I suppose I was one of those people who had their life planned out for them from the day they were born. I was a Weasley, Ginevra Molly Weasley, to be exact, with the red hair and, quoting Draco from the infamous Hogwarts days, "the family with more children they could afford" (just with more colorful language). It was expected of me to get an education, train for a decent job that I enjoyed, marry a nice man, and have children. Nothing in my early years could have belied these mediocre expectations. Even though I was the only girl born to the Weasleys in who knows how many generations, that's what I was going to do. The Weasleys were a not-so-rich, respectable pureblood family. No fireworks, no dramatic romance, no riding off into the sunsets for Ginny. _

_Then I started dating Harry in my fifth year, his sixth. Suddenly all those fairy tales came back to me; the gallant knight saving the princess, rescuing her from the evil witch and dragon. Famous Harry Potter and little Ginny Weasley, 'what a wonderful couple', all the aunties had said (with the exception of Harry's Aunt Petunia, she couldn't care less). They would squeeze my cheeks tell me how lucky I was to have him. How little Ginny had _such_ a crush on him ever since she was eleven, her brother's best friend, even before she saw him. How Harry saved her from "that terrible Tom Riddle" and she hoped he would finally fall for her, which the obliging Harry did, eventually. How they would marry and have lots of little Harrys running amuck. _

_It wasn't that I changed when I met Draco Lucius Malfoy in those stormy, turbulent days, it was that somehow, he became a part of my life, so much a part of it, that when he was gone, I felt the ache, although it would be years until I grew to finally understand what it was that I wanted, needed._

_I loved Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived, there was no doubt about it. But I started to wonder if what I wanted wasn't _to be rescued_, but _to rescue_ someone or something. I didn't want to be Sleeping Beauty, I wanted to be Belle from _Beauty and the Beast_, wise and clever and brave enough to tame the beast and find the man within. Or perhaps that is still too extreme. What I wanted seemed so simple now that I think about it, and yet so hard to find that perfect balance. What I wanted was for someone to need me just as much as I needed them._

_It's so hard to write things down again. I've loved it ever since I can remember, drawing pictures when I hadn't learned yet to write. And it all stopped with Tom Riddle's diary. I will always remember him as Tom, forever catching myself before I can say Tom instead of Voldemort. It all stopped then. I feared writing then. Feared the whiteness of the pages, the smoothness of the quill flowing over the blankness, fearing that one day, another diary will respond. I loved him. Loved the fact that he always was interested in what I had to say. How he had always cared. _

_Maybe the hardest thing about writing this is how I am writing again. Or maybe it's how I must reflect back on my confused feelings and thoughts that I had. Or maybe on how I let down so many people, in so many different ways. Or maybe it's how I will leave a part of myself within these pages._

_But I must digress. That isn't the important part either. I suppose I must start from the beginning…_

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I hope you all enjoyed that. Yes, _Moonlight Sonata_ is on hiatus, but this is a beginning. I know I've been away for a ridiculously long time, but my muse died and my only recollections of fanfiction and the Draco/Ginny world was of the reviews I continued to recieve (THANK YOU) for _Match Me_. So here's a new story that I hopefully will work with for through the end. I would expect updates about once to twice a month, as it is my senior year and I have college applications to finish.

_ For all of you who have followed me through until now_,  
falling into you


	2. Interludes

**Chapter One: Interlude**

_It's easy now to look back and laugh. So easy to pass it off as an occurrence like those I've read about in books, where everything plays out exactly as it is plotted. But sometimes…sometimes I shudder to think what my life would be like now if it hadn't happened, if everything had gone the way it was supposed to. For it was at that time that I realized though I had known of him for years, I had never really known him._

* * *

"You two will do that hallway, "Ginevra Weasley whispered to Neville Longbottom as they stood before the portrait hole, and pointed to the map, "and I'll go this way". She moved her finger to the left. As his mouth firmed and his face took on that certain stubborn countenance, she shook her head violently at him before he could open his mouth in protest. "I'll be fine. It's not the first time I've done this."

"Yes, but you've never done it alone before, "Neville countered, his earnest face turning mulish. "Also, your section is down on the second floor while ours is just below this one."

"Don't be an ass. It's only a few more staircases down. I'm not the one who should be worrying, as _you're_ the clumsy one." She shot him a quick grin. "Who's the one who nearly knocked over a suit of armor?" A pause, in which Neville's mouth fell into something resembling a pout. "And who, with their brilliance, saved the armor from waking everything but the dead?" Ginny paused, mockingly rubbing a hand over her jaw. "No, wait. Even the dead would have come running, wouldn't they?"

Neville rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Stop glorifying yourself. Let's hurry or we'll run into someone. Get the things." He reached into his pocket and took out a gold coin that flashed bright in the flickering light cast by the dying fire. Reading it, he told Ginny, "Luna says she'll meet us at the regular place." He sighed once, muttering, "I still think it's too risky for her. It's too far from Ravenclaw Tower."

Ginny laughed. "You have the strangest ideals about chivalry in a time where Death Eaters teach us in classrooms, patrol our halls, and control the Wizarding World. Have faith in her, she's strong." She sobered a little. "As long as she's careful, she'll be fine until we can get to her and charm her. Now, I have to do it for you." Neville nodded and breathed deeply, settling his mind and body before Ginny could place the Disillusionment Spell on him. She rapped her wand onto Neville's crown and muttered the spell. Before he vanished from her sight she could see the slight shudder run through Neville's form. "Alright, my turn."

After Neville did the same to Ginny, they climbed as silently as they could through the portrait hole. Ginny bit her lip as one of the small paint cans one of them held clacked against the frame as they were exiting. The Fat Lady snorted and sniffed before shifting, her silk dress ruffling, to go back to sleep. Though she couldn't see him, she felt Neville relax beside her, and she lifted a hand to place it on what she thought would be his back in reassurance.

Neville coughed uncomfortably. "Gin, that's my chest." Ginny felt herself blush, but didn't say anything, drawing back to take his arm to walk quickly down the long hallway toward the west side of the castle. Even though they were practically invisible unless one of them did something extraordinarily stupid, they kept to the shadows. As the castle liked to shift about, they watched where they were going. She didn't want to trip over Mrs. Filch or even worse, run into one of the Death Eaters masquerading as teachers. True, a challenge was always more fun, but this time it was safer to be cautious.

As they neared where Ravenclaw Tower resided, Ginny caught sight of Luna Lovegood huddled in one of the niches. Smart of her, Ginny thought, to have that dark hood drawn up over her fair hair. Throwing an arm out to stop Neville from continuing to walk forward, she nudged him in Luna's direction. Neville knew that Ginny would take care of the Disillusionment Charm and nodded even though no one could see him doing so. Taking care not to startle Luna as she approached, Ginny tapped her on the shoulder. Fear flashed in Luna's silvery blue eyes for a second until she saw no one was there.

Smiling, Luna whispered, "Took you long enough." Ginny always wondered how Luna's voice still retained that ethereal, dreamy quality to it during such turbulent times, where sometimes you woke up and found your roommate was gone, where punishments were no longer just mere detentions, where Muggle Studies was no longer about learning to live with Muggles, but how to murder them in such a way as to fool their law enforcement into believing they were accidents. But she also knew Luna's intelligence and skill as a witch matched those who had graduated for years when it came down to it: it was this balance between ferocity and gentleness was something Ginny had always admired.

Ginny raised her eyebrows at her while she performed the Disillusionment Charm on Luna. "We have the whole night ahead of us, don't be impatient, "she retorted, surveying her spell as it settled over Luna. Satisfied, she gestured to where Neville should have still been standing. "You go with Neville and take the corridor right before the Boys' Lavatory. You know what to write, and make it more inventive if you can. 'Dumbledore's Army – Still Recruiting' is getting old. Neville was always too restrained with this."

Luna groped around in the air until it landed on some part of Neville's body. From the stifled yelp she could only imagine where Luna had grabbed on to. Her disembodied voice floated from slightly to Ginny's right. "Sorry, Neville. Take care, Ginny. Be careful."

"Thanks Luna. Remember, don't worry about meeting me back here or anything, just go straight back to your common room when you're done. You too, Neville. I'll be done when I'm done." Ginny could only hear the fading shuffling of their feet as they set off down the corridor together.

Ginny felt the thrill run through her as it always did on these midnight excursions. It made her feel alive to take part in these tiny rebellions; it was life threatening to openly defy anyone. As she wound down the long staircases, she vaguely wondered what Harry, Ron, and Hermione were up to, wishing she knew for sure. No one knew anything for sure these days. Nevertheless, she did what she could – reviving Dumbledore's Army and meeting as many times as they could spare, trying to learn and teach as many spells as possible, stealing books from the Forbidden Section of the library, a section that had been growing ever larger with each passing day as more and more books were deemed "unsuitable" for student use, even painting graffiti on the walls.

But the hardest thing to do was to believe in them, to trust that they would find the Horcruxes before it was too late. The ones that stayed at home, rather than out on the warfront, were the ones that were filled with indecision and uncertainty. They did not need to plan battles and pit wizard against wizard, but still it was difficult and confusing at best. It was hard enough to stay calm, but it took more than mere faith to see past the web of lies spun by the Voldemort-controlled Ministry. Ginny had to constantly tell herself not to believe in the headlines that declared Harry was on the loose and rampaging through Britain, endangering all, yet she knew that every day more people disappeared, especially the Muggleborns.

These persistent thoughts faded to the dark recesses of her mind as she passed by a window overlooking the lake. Though the castle was charmed to prevent the cold coming in, as she stepped closer to peer outside she could feel the waft of cold over her face, and she breathed in the icy air. She'd forgotten how beautiful the night could be, so still and silent. If she forgot how easily the night concealed those dark forces and left her vulnerable to their attacks. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of such cynical thoughts. Just enjoy it, she ordered herself. It wasn't everyday you got to see such sights.

The wind tossed the remaining leaves on the branches of the tress. The moon was nearly full, bathing the lake with a beautiful silver sheen. When she was younger, Ginny had always thought nighttime roughly translated to blackness. Now, at sixteen years old, she could see the subtlety of the night sky. Away from city lights, she could see the stars winking here and there behind nearly transparent grey clouds. The sky was not black at all, but rather a deep dark blue. She pressed a hand to the windowpane, shuddering at the shock of cold. It was only in the middle of autumn, but the days were rapidly getting colder, as if even the seasons could feel the darkness descending over the Wizarding World and decided to ally themselves with them.

She shook herself out of her reverie. There was work to do, she scolded herself. There was no time to stand at windows and think sentimental thoughts. Gripping her wand tighter, she strode purposefully down the remaining steps to the second floor, where she could just see the dark silhouettes of the stone gargoyles.

Almost unreasonably, she felt a little sorry she would have to deface the gargoyles, it wasn't their fault they had to guard the path to Severus Snape, current Headmaster of Hogwarts. She scanned her surroundings more carefully as she neared the entrance to the Headmaster's Office, pulling out a roll of thin wire from her pocket.

Certainly none of this, this defacing school property and pulling pranks on various teachers, was intended to kill anyone, but to encourage those who had undoubtedly felt hopeless in the few months they had been back at school, to let those that had not yet fought back or were too young to do so know that even the smallest moves of rebellion were welcome, provided no one was hurt. Yes, she would indeed enjoy this, and only regretted that she would have to move as silently as she could. She felt the insane urge to whistle cheerfully while she worked on completing her task to wind enough of the wire across the entrance, around each of the gargoyles' feet, as well as to paint the gargoyles lurid colors. All this was capped off with the finishing touch of a DA advertisement on the wall directly across from the entrance.

Her image of Snape, livid and shouting as he stormed into the Great Hall shattered as something crashed into her, forcing her into the space between the back of one gargoyle and the wall. Her nose was pressed up against the wall as hands ran down her form, and she gritted her teeth in disgust. As one hand traveled underneath her skirt and up her thigh, Ginny decided she had enough, trying to twist around to face her attacker properly. It was a man, she was sure of it. Hard thighs had pressed instantly against her lower body in retaliation to her struggles, and the person had too much upper body strength and a lack of breasts to warrant it being a woman. In addition to the fact that the person had entirely too much fun trying to figure out what he was holding. Exactly who it was she had yet to discover. From her position she could judge her head being roughly at the man's neck, and she ran through names in her head, telling herself not to panic.

"I knew someone was here, "a voice growled in her ear. "Now to find out who it is...I'm assuming it's one of those idiot Gryffindors who think they have free reign of the school at nighttime. I think I can guess who it is without even undoing the Disillusionment Charm." He felt her form stiffen and smiled cruelly. "Yes, that's right. You see, your foot isn't quite covered by the charm."

Ginny willed herself not to scream. She couldn't place his voice, but he might hers. How could it have gone so wrong? The Disillusionment Charm was a difficult one, but Neville had always performed it well enough. Why hadn't she checked periodically to see if it had worn off, as spells do from time to time? Just how long had she spent getting from the seventh floor to the second, dallying at the window? If only she hadn't been attacked so quickly from behind, if she was more alert, she might have never ended up in this position. If only she could turn around, she could hex the man and get back to the common room before he undid the spell and saw her face.

Acutely aware of the thoughts running through his captive's head, the man continued speaking, low and soft, "You should have checked. You're lucky your shoes are black and if it weren't for that tidbit of ankle showing, I wouldn't have seen you." He found her arm and traced his fingers lightly down to her hands where she still gripped her wand. She felt his touch through her robes, and the goosebumps unwillingly rose on her skin. Clucking at her like a mother reprimanding a child, he gripped her hand hard. Sparks left her wand as he tore it from her grasp. "Now, now, "he scolded mockingly, "Don't be difficult." He pressed his body harder against her to brace her even more firmly against the wall as he slipped the still invisible wand into a pocket in his robes.

With that tone in his voice, she suddenly knew.

"_Potter, you've got yourself a _girlfriend!"

"_Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them. You'd never know the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they behave."_

"_You don't know what I'm capable of, you don't know what I've done."_

Draco Malfoy. For the love of Merlin, she had Draco Malfoy at her back. Instantly her body tensed and Draco twisted his mouth into a sneer. "Finally figured it out, haven't you? And I thought with all the insults I've given you through the years, the least you could do is remember my voice, yes?" He sighed melodramatically. More adept at finding body parts of invisible people than she or Luna had been, he grasped the hair at the base of her neck and tugged until she could see his pale, angular face above hers. "Yes? " He paused for a moment. "Yes, Weasley?" he continued, drawing out that last word.

What the hell, he already knew who she was, and while she detested him, knew him to be smarter than believing her to be one of her brothers. She snapped, "Is this the only way you can get the best of me, Malfoy? Taking me up against a wall?"

Though his tone was malicious, he kept his voice low. "Don't be disgusting." He released her hair and kept his body against hers, refusing to be baited. "I'm physically stronger than you by far, and I have your wand. Don't push it."

"I don't think the one pushing is me."

He ignored her comment. "So what shall I do, Weasley?" He waited for her response, and continued when he received none. "Handle this myself? Call for the teachers? Turn you in to the Headmaster? I was on my way to meet him anyway. You aren't naive enough to think you're going to get off easy. However much I sincerely hate your family I have to admit you were never one to lack for brains."

"A compliment, Malfoy? I'm touched, "Ginny hissed sarcastically. She was finding it harder to breathe, whether from the undeniable feeling of panic cascading over her or because he was practically smashing her into the wall.

He moved too fast for her to think in the next second. The next thing she knew he'd rapped her over her head with his wand, and the uncomfortable feeling of what could only be described as shedding her skin swamped her. Combined with the overly hard hit on the head, she could only think wryly that it was an apt description as he gripped her upper arm painfully and dragged her down the hallway, making a sharp turn abruptly to shove her into a small room she hadn't noticed before. Unconcerned with her well-being as she tumbled onto the ground, he stepped through the door like a prince entering a peasants' house. Draco sniffed, looking around at the dusty surroundings, before closing the door firmly and muttering an incantation Ginny knew to be a soundproofing spell.

Ginny recovered from her disorientation and leapt at him as he turned around. He'd been slightly prepared for the onslaught, but they ended up on the floor, tussling in the small room. She got in a few good kicks while trying to reach for her wand in his pocket before he flipped the both of them over, reversing their positions. Her fist grazed his cheekbone as he settled his weight more firmly on her torso, a leg on either side of her, sitting up and smirking at her as he gathered both wrists in one hand and pinned them over her head.

"You coward."

He shrugged. "I wasn't the one who was going to attack me with my back turned."

"Like accosting me in the hallway wasn't attacking while _my _back was turned?" She tried to bite his nose as he leaned over her. "What are you going to do now? Keep me in here?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "However wonderful that sounds, I'd hate to trouble the Headmaster with the rank smell your dead body would be emitting after a few weeks."

"I forgot, "Ginny sneered, quite like Draco had. "Your purpose in life is to follow his every beck and call. Must be fun." She hadn't expected to see a flicker of – what was it? It was far too fast for her to have accurately named, and she quieted as she studied his face. It had changed in the years she'd known him, but she had never felt the need to look at it, into it. It had become both less pointy and childish, and while he'd never have what anyone would call chiseled features, they'd become more defined, stronger. As the sneer faded away his features became smoother, younger. Looking down at her, his eyes were a surprisingly clear grey.

In the next instant, they had hardened again and he looked uncompromising and solid in the dark. She tried to escape again but he held firm. It was strange to be so close to her. Draco had only taunted and insulted her from a distance, not realizing she was no longer a child, but a young woman only a year younger than he was. The loose robe concealed her feminine features, but he remembered how they had felt when he'd wrapped his arms around her out in the hallway to press her against the wall.

He could see the tilt of that nose, freckles lightly dotting across the light skin. Her hair was tangled from their miniscule fights, and he wondered when it had become a darker shade of red-gold, no longer the same shade as Ron's. Her brown eyes looked up at him with the strangest expression; he couldn't decide if it was simply confusion or something else.

He didn't know how long he just sat there on top of her before she muttered, "Malfoy?" She stilled, unsure what to say, not wanting to reveal that he was feeling uncomfortably heavy on top of her in case he decided to bad-naturedly put more of his weight on her. He was no longer a scrawny boy-child, but quickly reaching adulthood.

"What were you doing?"

She hadn't expected that question, and stared at his mouth for long seconds before deciding that she really had heard correctly. Pursing her lips, she rolled her eyes at him. "I know you're no Hermione, but I'm sure you would put two and two together. Unless you're really as stupid as I want you to be." She stretched her neck, trying to ease the tension that had gathered there, and Draco followed the long line to her collarbone, disappearing underneath the robe. "Now just take me to Snape. The quicker you do, the less time I have to spend in your presence, "she spit out.

A sudden wave of tiredness swept over him. He shifted his weight off her slightly, to Ginny's great relief. The movement brought his face completely into shadow, and she didn't see the slight change in his features before he twisted his mouth in contempt. "If you haven't noticed already, Weasley, "Draco sneered, "this place is filthy. I know you must have spent most of your life in a pigsty like this, but I haven't. We'll continue this discussion elsewhere." He hauled her up, making sure to keep his wand on her. "Don't make any sudden movements, now. I'm not averse to stunning you. It'll make my job easier anyway." He lifted one shoulder up and down in a noncommittal shrug.

Ginny glared at him while she stood up unsteadily, letting the blood flow back to the parts of her he'd sat on. Draco perched himself on the edge of one of the desks haphazardly stored in the room, one hand going up to this tie, undoing it. She shifted a wary eye at him. "What are you doing?" she asked, hoping her tone didn't betray her sudden nervousness.

"Don't flatter yourself." He made a violent motion, taking the green and silver tie off with surprising force, as if it were a noose around his neck rather than proper attire. Keeping his wand pointed in her direction, he tugged off his collar to unbutton it. Ginny gaped at him, saw the smooth flesh of his throat. Realizing what she was doing, she turned her head to the side. Draco was about to make another comment at this, but closed his mouth as he decided it wasn't worth another shouting or fighting match. He knew how fired up she could get, and he could only thank Merlin that he'd been able to take her wand away before she'd cursed him with that infernal Bat Bogey Hex.

Seeing her eyes shift back toward him, he made a circular motion with his finger. Understanding only that he wanted her to turn so her back faced him, she complied, thinking of all the ways to get out of her situation, feeling for the right moment when Malfoy lowered his guard down enough for her to grab her wand and retaliate.

She felt him behind her and braced herself. He was so close she could feel his body heat. She had to restrain her surprise when she felt cool silk brush over her cheeks, coming to rest across the bridge of her nose to cover her eyes. Wonderful, she thought. A blindfold. He tied it securely, but surprisingly gently. She did jump when he reached into her pocket to draw out a thicker rope than the one she'd planned to use for the gargoyle.

The loss of sight unnerved her more than she wanted to admit, even to herself. She managed to hold back a flinch when she felt him move around her to her front, again taking both her wrists. He spoke as he bound her hands in front of her. "You always carry rope around? I suppose I must thank you for that. Surprised I found it? I felt it earlier through your clothes." He went on quickly as he finished the last knots on the rope. "Now, promise me you won't make a fuss and I won't gag you. I don't really have anything to gag you with anyhow, so I might have to get inventive." With that, he pushed her forward.

As he led her out of the room, she knew that if she tried to run, the best that could happen would be to run right into a wall. She also knew better to yell for help; there were worse people than Malfoy inhabiting the castle these days, people who wouldn't blink an eye at playing with prey caught in the dead of night before turning them in to the Headmaster. She couldn't be sure who would come running, after all.

Ginny bit the inside of her cheek as she tried to walk up a flight of stairs. Damn him, she thought furiously. The world was disoriented, and Draco had to nudge her from time to time, light touches on the shoulder, as they walked quickly into the darkness. As hard as she tried, however well she knew the castle from countless wanderings in the dead of night, she could not figure out where they were walking. Damn him, she thought furiously. She knew the castle as well as the back of her own hand! Now she no longer even knew if she was walking in a straight line.

Snatches of a memory drifted to her as they walked along, memories of a game she played once as a child. The twins had talked her into it first, saying that regular tag was too easy. Unable to pass up on a challenge to show how good she would be at it, even at the young age of five or six, she'd agreed readily. After putting the blindfold over her eyes and spinning her around a few dozen times, the twins and Ron had scattered around her. The dizziness had swamped over her, and she had staggered before regaining her footing. Even after that, she could never catch any of her brothers, running blindly at snatches of voices and laughter that came from everywhere and nowhere. Her determination and honor dictated that she not take off the blindfold, but the frustration had mounted, and she had almost burst into tears after what seemed like the thousandth time tripping over roots the garden gnomes had dug up or her own shoes or a rough patch of ground, when – when what?

Ginny was still lost in her thoughts, drawing her brows together, and didn't hear Draco mutter an incantation before unlocking and opening a door. She was trying to remember how that game had ended, unreasonably annoyed that she couldn't remember. She doubted she ever caught any of her brothers, since they were older and faster than she could have been. Did she simply give up? Did her mother finally come out and get her? What happened? Who - ?

A hand slipped between her waist and arm to grasp her forearm lightly. She immediately tried to tear away, stepping backwards. Unable to balance, she began to topple until a supporting arm came around the middle of her back.

Caught in an awkward embrace, his arm still tangled within her bound one, he sighed. "Weasley. We're going up another flight of steps."

"You don't have to sneak up on me like that, "she said, embarrassed, trying to use her shoulder and elbow to nudge him away. He withdrew the arm around her back but kept the other tucked in the crook of her elbow. "And you can let go of me, "she said blatantly, looking down to where she thought her arm was.

He didn't answer, only grasping her arm tighter to practically pull her up this next flight of stairs, so she concentrated on trying not to trip. She had been drifting this way and that the whole way, coming dangerously close to crashing into statues and falling down the stairs. She was taking too long, he told himself. It was easier this way, anyway. Even if he had to touch her.

Now that he'd broken the long stretch of silence since he pushed her out of the room next to the gargoyles, she spoke quietly. "Malfoy. Where are we going?"

"Be quiet. You know someone will come if you wake them up." His breath stirred wisps of her hair as he spoke. Did Pansy's arm ever feel so warm beneath his?

She tilted her face toward his voice. "So we're near a teacher's room then?" Were there any teacher's quarters on the third or fourth floor? She didn't think so.

"Think whatever you want."

Another silence followed, broken only by Draco's grunt as he steadied Ginny when she stepped too far forward and hit the edge of a step. Ginny wondered just how many more steps there were. Was there a staircase this long? She seriously doubted he was taking her to the top of a tower, unless he planned to abandon her at the top of the astronomy tower.

She decided to voice the question. "Are you going to leave me to freeze at the top of the astronomy tower?"

Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation. "No. I'm going to push you off it. Then it'll at least be worth my time."

Ginny shrugged. "I'm surprised you wouldn't torture me first." He frowned, and his grip on her arm tightened for a second. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it when Ginny spoke again. "I promise not to hex you the next time I see you if you tell me where we're going."

"Giving up so easily, Weasley?" She turned her head toward him so abruptly that his lips brushed her hairline near her temple. He jerked back. When had she gotten so close to him? He opened the door in front of her and, now on level ground, quickened their pace.

"Not necessarily, "she answered, sighing. His gaze landed on her lips, watching her as she spoke. "I'm not stupid. There's going to a price to pay, whether or not you're going to take me to Snape."

"Don't tell me you're going to tell him you were simply out for a midnight stroll, or going down to the kitchens for a snack."

"No, "she shook her head. "He's not stupid. He'll piece the parts together." She was positive Draco knew exactly what she was talking about – the recent vandalism and writings on the wall from the DA – but she still felt reluctant to give away all the details. She would never give away all the details, would never betray her friends. The DA was the strongest rebellion she had here and now. "And you wouldn't pass up a chance to gloat anyway."

"You're right, why shouldn't I?"

He had never had a conversation with her, he realized. Although this conversation was simply a variation on the trading insults and jinxes, lighter in tone and heavier in sarcasm, so he wasn't sure if it counted. It was really a pity the girl was such a blood traitor. Her features were much finer than Pansy's, not perfect but certainly more vibrant than any girl in Slytherin, who tended to be sultry pampered princesses accustomed to lounging about being porcelain-doll beautiful, thinking of ways to get what they wanted. Ever since that Bat Bogey Hex two years ago he'd been noticing her more, taking her as her own person rather than just the Weasley's kid sister.

Ginny interrupted his thoughts, and they continued their biting conversation, while Draco took too many turns and went through too many doorways for her to figure out where they were going, however much she listened for portraits to speak or the feel of the area.

They had fallen into the now-familiar acrid silence and Ginny was deciding between slow dismemberment and letting the forest have him when Draco slowed, stopped. "I think this is close enough, "he murmured as he took off her bindings. Ginny blinked at the sudden brightness coming from the torches lining the corridor.

Realizing where she was, she swirled to face him, narrowing her eyes. "What do you want, Malfoy?" she spat out.

Before she knew what he was going to do, he'd grasped her chin, tilted her face up, and pressed his mouth against hers hard. He was smart enough to be quick about it, but she still felt the coolness of his lips against hers. He'd caught her with her mouth slightly open, and lingered on her lower lip as he ended the kiss. She fought the blush creeping up on her cheeks, feeling embarrassed and bewildered and angry, and brought up her hands to his chest to push him away.

"I think that was revolting enough to be a punishment." He had backed her against the wall, a position that had become far too familiar for comfort with him. She hated that she felt so intimidated – but with one of his arms resting at the wall above her head, his head bent so close their noses nearly touching, he had effectively caged her in.

She sucked in a breath, refusing to show anything but defiance. "Yes, on my part." Belatedly, she wiped the back of her hand over her lips. "I don't see how it would benefit you, "she looked at him, trying to act confident and uncaring.

"Maybe I like the feeling of dirtying perfect Potter's perfect girl, "he said. The nearest torch was to the left and above him, making Ginny's face easy to read while his stayed in shadow. He hesitated for a moment, then turned to go. Though he hadn't touched her after that startling kiss, she felt released from something, some invisible spell that held her rooted to where she stood, to him.

"Malfoy, wait." She cursed herself as he slowed and turned slightly toward her, inclining his head in silent acknowledgment. What could she say? Questions flew through her mind. The most obvious being – Why?

"I know you're content looking like a banshee in the morning, Weasley, but I'd like to get some of my beauty sleep, if you don't mind." With that, he walked down the hallway, his long legs graceful as he walked down the stairs.

Ginny shook her head to clear it as she walked down the corridor, the fog of sleep already coming upon her as her body thought about the soft bed waiting for her upstairs. A few more steps and she reached the portrait hole.

Neville startled her by opening the door just as she was about to wake the fat lady up. "Ginny, "he whispered loudly, "What happened? Are you alright?"

"Nice timing." Ginny smiled wanly at him, deciding she had no need to worry him. "I couldn't do it tonight, I'm sorry. People kept visiting him all night and I had to hide for a while. Next time."

"I told you not to go alone, "he nagged at her as they walked through the common room, avoiding the messy stack of papers left by students trying to finish last minute essays.

"Then we would've just been waiting together. Don't worry, I'm fine, just tired."

He nodded at her. "Alright, then. Good night, Gin."

"Good night." Her feet dragged as she went up the stairs. Opening the door as quietly as she could, she snuck in and cleaned up quickly before climbing, exhausted, into bed. She unconsciously lifted her hand to her brush over her lips as she slipped quietly into oblivion.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I'm so, so sorry this has been has long! I've been so caught up with college applications and admissions (busy getting the acceptances now) and it's only been recently that I've felt the urge to write. I've been getting a lot of plot ideas lately, and I remind myself to jot them ALL down so they'll someday be put into this story. So far I've got a bit of the next chapter written, and hopefully it'll be up next month, but I don't promise anything. I would like to thank everyone's who stayed with me until now, and I bless you all for your perseverance. I do hope you enjoyed this chapter!

A special thanks to all who reviewed the first chapter – WishfulWhispers, Leticia92Slytherin, Yuki Asao, blissfulxsin, and Victoria!

_Hugs and Kisses to all,  
_falling into you


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